


so baby come down with me

by katsmovingcastle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Barista Lance, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Keith has anxiety, Keith works at a bookstore, Lance Helps, M/M, Self-Indulgent, Time Skips, photographer lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9441224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsmovingcastle/pseuds/katsmovingcastle
Summary: Lance knows he’s taking pictures of him, and remains still, extends one arm out to clasp the wheel and relaxes the rest of his body back into the seat, his plaid laying open and his body not shying away from the camera or Keith.It’s a moment before Lance is smiling, looking over at Keith and not shielding his expression, the look in his eyes, how fond he is of him.“Can’t resist taking pictures of me?” He says, smirking, and Keith lowers the camera into his lap.“Maybe,” Keith murmurs, not able to think of anything witty to respond with, and doesn’t really care either way.





	1. just tell me where you wanna go

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone!! this is a very self-indulgent fic, and i find that i spent a lot of this using moments that i had experienced and exploring some thoughts and feelings that i have felt in the past. it might be a little ooc but i still wanted to post it, because i've been sitting on this fic since last year, going back and forth on whether to share it or not. despite everything, i hope that you like it. if you wanna talk to me about voltron or this fic, you can find me at my tumblr [sunpeachmochi.](http://sunpeachmochi.tumblr.com)
> 
> title and chapter titles come from the song "we were lovers" by the analog affair.

Keith had always been one to pay attention to the small details, and as he shelved yet another worn and dusty book, the leather worn and dyed an aging turquoise blue, he let his fingers linger over the golden inscription on the spine before leaving it be. There was something that drew him to books, something that caused him to be slower and more calculated, to take in the surroundings and the feeling of the air against his skin and the smell on the air, the musty mix of lavender and worn cotton, a cinnamon candle burning quietly by the register. 

The book store was quiet and Keith was the only one there, and the light outside had dampened into a cool, purpling blue evening with a waning burnt orange sun peeking out rays of light over the rows of books Keith was rearranging. The bell near the door rang and Keith perked up, looking over his shoulder and seeing a flash of plaid. 

“Keith?” A voice called out, and he smiled, warmly, it barely quirking up the sides of his mouth fondly. Keith walked out the rest of the aisle and arrived at the end, a few books being held in the crook of his arm as his eyes met those of Lance’s. 

“Coffeeshop closed early tonight, Hunk’s cleaning up and let me go, this time,” Lance says, a backpack slung over one shoulder, dipped with only a few contents, which Lance deposited on the counter before then taking a seat on it himself. He crossed his legs at his ankles, leaning back on the palms of his hands, his eyes roaming the length of Keith’s body. 

Keith felt the heat of his gaze as it traced his body, wearing a sweater that dipped off one of his shoulders, his hair in a bun that had wilted, strands of hair coming to frame his face on the sides. He was wearing loose jeans that were, for the most part, ripped and showing quite a bit of his thighs. He knew that Lance liked them, had bought them after trying them on and Lance called him pretty. 

“I brought you a chai,” Lance says despite what his eyes say, holding out the drink, just with the right amount of ice and just the way that Keith liked it. He steps closer to him and takes the drink, setting the books down and taking a sip. Lance takes the cover off of his own coffee, blowing steam away and taking a little sip, leaving foam at the top of his lips. Keith smiles at him, leaning against the counter, his arm resting against the side of his knee. 

“What have you got planned for tonight?” Keith asks, swirling the straw around in the drink and making the ice rattle against the cup. 

“Kinda wanted to go to the park and get some pictures, it’s going to be nice out tonight,” He says, and Keith hums under his breath, swallowing more chai and thinking about how the spice heavy on his tongue reminds him of Lance. 

“Wanna be my model again, pretty boy?” Lance asks, and Keith switches his gaze over to him, raising an eyebrow to remain nonchalant. 

“If you’re nice to me,” Keith says, joking, and Lance shakes his head. 

“I brought you a chai, I think you can give me a couple pictures,” 

“Alright, I know it’s just because you like this sweater, and you want me to give it to you,” 

“Maybe, and I’ll take my chances,” Lance says, hopping off of the counter then. 

“C’mon, close up and get in my car,” He says, pulling out his keys with a million keychains on in one hand and picking up his coffee with the other, backpack already slung onto his back. 

“You could make kidnapping me sound a lot nicer,” Keith says, going behind the counter and getting his wallet, slipping it into his pocket and grabbing his jacket, slinging it over one shoulder as he gets his chai. He opens the door for Lance and follows him out, locking the door behind himself. 

“We both know that it’s very far from that, babe,” Lance says, and Keith rolls his eyes. 

Lance’s car is electric and pretentious, and Keith slides into the passenger as Lance turns the keys and it purrs to life, Lance tapping the dashboard affectionately before pulling out of the spot. Keith’s pretty sure he hears him murmur something like “good little blue,” as he does, and smiles to himself as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“Turn some music on,” Lance murmurs, pulling out onto the road, and Keith pulls out his phone and grabs the aux cord, turning on something low and acoustic which makes Lance hum in approval. He rolls the windows down and the air that flows through is dry and sharp with coolness at the edge, and goosebumps roll in a wave up Keith’s arms and legs. His hair that’s free from his bun flails wildly, but Keith doesn’t move to contain it. 

“Are we going to the same park or a new one?” Keith asks, and Lance drums his fingers on the wheel, and Keith looks over at him and sees his face lit up with orange light, the sharp angles of his face outlined and beautiful. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, chancing a glance over at Keith and finding his gaze already on him. 

“A new one, I want some different shots,” He says, and Keith reaches into the back of the car for Lance’s backpack, opening the zipper and reaching his hand in, his fingers trailing over the objects inside until they land on the ridge’s of Lance’s camera. 

He pulls it out and leaves the backpack in the backseat, leaning back as far as can in his seat, facing towards Lance. Keith takes off the cover and looks through the viewfinder, getting the angle that he wants, Lance’s downturned face lit on fire by the sun that is framed by his silhouette. He snaps a few times, trying to get it just right. He knows that the pictures won’t ever get close to what the real thing actually looks like, but he still manages to capture some of Lance’s light. 

Lance knows he’s taking pictures of him, and remains still, extends one arm out to clasp the wheel and relaxes the rest of his body back into the seat, his plaid laying open and his body not shying away from the camera or Keith. 

It’s a moment before Lance is smiling, looking over at Keith and not shielding his expression, the look in his eyes, how fond he is of him. 

“Can’t resist taking pictures of me?” He says, smirking, and Keith lowers the camera into his lap. 

“Maybe,” Keith murmurs, not able to think of anything witty to respond with, and doesn’t really care either way. 

“Don’t stop,” Lance says, quiet, and turns his head away from him, not wanting him to take a picture of the emotion in his eyes, not wanting to have to see it when he develops the pictures. 

Keith doesn’t say anything, but he does what he says. 

-

The way that they floated around each other like they were two planets in orbit, looking back over at each other with the same degree of emotion without physically being able to get close enough to let the other know, was something that they had always been like. Being together was easy, knowing each other enough to know their favorite things or the way they’d react to something or what they need at a certain moment came almost naturally. 

Lance started showing up at the bookstore where Keith worked when he first started getting into anime, searching for manga to accompany all of the shows that he watched. The bookstore was the only one in the small college town that carried them, due to the owner, Shiro, wanting to have as many genres of books as possible to accommodate as many people as he could. 

Keith had guided him to the section, noting Lance’s streak of blue hair, electric despite the natural brown it originally was, his painted nails, ripped skinny jeans and eyes something that made him feel like home. 

Maybe they reminded him of the ocean that lapped against the pier that he often sat at when he was growing up, alone and looking out over the horizon and wondering when he was going to find someone that would want to sit next to him all of the time. A person that he would want to go to when he wanted to be alone, but not quite. Someone to listen to the feelings that felt like they were consuming him from the inside out, not being able to hear anything else but the impending voice in his head. 

Lance was snapping in front of his eyes, grinning from ear to ear and chewing on a piece of gum. 

“Hey, pretty boy, is this the only section you have? Like, is there another shelf?” He says, and Keith’s eyes widen at the implication of him calling him pretty boy. He colors pink, ducks his head down and shakes it. 

“This whole row is the only manga we have, currently,” Keith says, his voice quieter than it had been when he had greeted him into the store. 

“Don’t go all blushy, blushy, pretty boy, you deserve the compliment,” Lance says, his eyes leaving him and going over the books, trailing his fingers over a few of the spines before plucking the one he wanted off of the shelf. 

“Ring me up?” Lance says, walking over to where the register was, Keith following behind with his head watching his feet walk across the worn wooden floors, trying to clear the warmth that lingered in his cheeks. 

He didn’t know why he felt the way he did, why the boy affected him as much, despite Keith’s obvious attraction in the first place. Keith goes behind the counter and rings him up, rattling off the total and reaching out to grab the money when Lance offers it. 

“Thanks,” Lance says, and meets his eyes finally, and Keith gives him a small smile. He picks up a pen that’s in a little cup with rice, reaching out his hand again, and Keith supplies it with his hesitantly. Lance’s fingers brush over his hand and move it so that his palm opens, and Keith feels tingles throughout the rest of his arm as he touches him. He scribbles his number there, writing his name underneath in neat handwriting. 

“I work at the coffee shop just down the street, you should come in sometime,” He says, returning the pen and then turning to leave. Keith watches him as he goes, the door slipping closed behind him. He lets out a breath that he didn’t know he had withheld, staring down at the number on his hand, smiling softly. 

-

They reach the park when the sun has finished setting, and Lance pulls his car into the otherwise small but empty parking lot. Keith moves to get out of the car, having already put the camera back into Lance’s backpack before they had arrived. He moves his sweater back up onto his shoulder, shoving his hands into his pockets as he feels the slight chill on the edge of the air, crisp and invading. 

He follows Lance idly, a few feet back as he watches Lance take in his surroundings and try to find which spot speaks to him the most. When Lance motions with his left hand, Keith goes around to where Lance is facing, a looming tree that casts shadows over the grassy area that’s below it. 

It’s a few moments as Lance gets his camera ready that Keith just stands there and watches him, runs a hair through his hair and waits until he’s given instructions. 

“Lean against the tree, put your hand in your hair like you’re pushing it back? Yeah, yeah, that’s good, keep it right there,” Lance calls out, and Keith follows what he says almost like muscle memory, he’s done this so many times. He keeps his eyes trained on Lance as much as he can, but looks off into the distance occasionally even though he’d rather keep watching him take pictures. 

The hours pass more quickly than Keith would want them to, and it isn’t long before they resign to just walking side by side along the pathway of the park, hands tangled together inbetween them. They’re not talking about it, instead just reveling in the feeling of warming their fingers up despite the chilly air around them. 

Keith’s not as relaxed as he could be, because it’s getting dark and his body is shivering subtly now due to the weather getting even colder now that the sun was completely set. Lance notices, because he always does, and guides him back to the car with his hand resting at the lower of Keith’s back, keeping him close to his side. 

He unlocks the car and opens the door for Keith before going around to the driver’s side, throwing his backpack into the back with careful precision before sliding into his seat at the front. 

“Wanna sleepover tonight?” Lance asks as he turns on the car, cranking up the heat and lowering the volume of the radio. He reverses the car out of the parking spot and starts heading towards his apartment, anyways. Keith hums in response like he knew he was going to, and turns up the radio afterwards. Lance rests his hand on the console in the middle, palm resting upwards, and Keith places his hand on top when he notices, tangling their fingers together again. 

His grasp on his fingers makes him feel safe, and the car moving fast through the scenery around him makes him feel better. Keith brings their hands up together and leaves a soft kiss on the top of Lance’s hand, and when he rests them, Lance returns the favor to the back of Keith’s. 

“You did good tonight, lion,” Lance murmurs, and Keith looks over to see him smirking, and he blushes, as he always does. 

“Thank you, lion,” Keith returns, and squeezes his hand twice, which Lance returns as he lets his eyes flutter shut, just feeling the car move the familiar way home. 

-

Lance’s lips sliding over Keith’s are cool and wet, and Keith melts as Lance fists a grip into his shirt, impossibly pulling him closer when their bodies are already pressed completely together. They’re laying on Lance’s dorm bed, having lost track of time getting lost in each other, and it’s at the precipice of reaching the point past innocent. 

Lance is halfway rutting against Keith’s thigh, placed between Lance’s legs, and Keith is going to go crazy hearing Lance’s quiet, soft undertones of noises muffled in his throat, against his lips. 

There’s a moment where Keith pauses, has to open his eyes and pull back slightly, take a deep breath in and out. His mind is screaming at him to move away, to push away anything touching him, to just get out of there. But Lance is safe, and Lance keeps him safe, so why does he want to leave? Why does everything touching him feel like a personal offense? 

Lance sees him drawing back, getting that look in his eyes and he moves away from him, letting their legs untangle but reaching out his hand, waiting for Keith to press his slightly shaking fingers into his. Lance gives him a squeeze, sitting up and giving him a gentle smile. 

“It’s okay, Keith, everything’s fine. Do you wanna stop, watch a movie, maybe? Take a walk?” He offers, and his voice is low and soft and everything Keith wants, but also doesn’t want, and he takes his hand away and scoots so that his back is against the wall, and he leans his head back and closes his eyes. 

He’s waiting for the feelings to subside, he’s waiting for his mind to stop betraying him, for that little voice that sounds so much like him but he knows isn’t him at all. He wish it would shut up, so that he could enjoy this. It’s a fruitless thought. His mind is going to do what it wants. 

Lance is patient but Keith begins to panic, feeling like the more moments that he spends pulled away is another second that Lance is getting angrier, getting more frustrated with the way that Keith is being. His actions are unexplainable and stupid, dammit, but Keith can’t help it and he doesn’t want Lance to pull away, to leave him, and he could touch him and bring him back because that would probably help but he doesn’t want to, it would feel too close, too much. 

He listens to the sheets shuffle as Lance moves himself to lean against the wall right beside him, a couple of inches inbetween their bodies, but close enough. He brings his knees up and rests his arms against them, and his elbow juts out into Keith’s space. Keith finds that he doesn’t mind. 

A few minutes pass before Keith scoots over to lean his head against Lance’s shoulder, and his arm comes up to run his fingers through Keith’s hair, and he makes a content little humming sound in his throat. 

“Thank you,” He murmurs, and Lance looks down to him, and Keith looks up and sees there’s a tiny smile appearing on his lips, slowly. He feels warmth bloom in his chest, looking at how beautiful Lance is, but also the look in his eyes, and how he can see the love there. It’s how he would’ve wanted anyone to look at him, years ago when he stood on his back porch and whispered to the winds about his day, telling them to send them to the person he’ll love in the future, when he ends up finding them. He wonders sometime if Lance ever shivered when the wind danced across his golden skin, if his words ever reached him the million times he would go outside, alone, just wishing for someone to talk to and resigning to the wind to carry his messages for him. 

Lance is patient while Keith’s mind wanders, even if it’s an instant, a minute. 

“Hey there, lion,” Lance says, when he sees Keith’s eyes move around his face, back in the moment again. Keith’s cheeks warm with a blush, and he smiles. 

“Can we watch videos? Something funny, please,” Keith requests, and Lance reaches for the laptop that’s disregarded on the floor beside the bed, repositioning himself to be laying against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. His finger’s swirling around on the touchpad, eyes focused on the screen that lights up as he wakes up the laptop, and he moves his free arm up, fingers curling to beckon Keith towards him. Keith complies, rearranging himself to be curled along Lance’s side, his head tucking perfectly against his chest as he lowers his arm and rests his hand on the curve of his hip, his thumb rubbing against where his big tshirt has ridden up and where his boxers stop. 

Keith’s leg moves to go over Lance’s, and he tucks his socked feet against his, finally feeling the tight feeling in his chest disperse. The comforting feeling floods through his head, and he feels himself drift as he mindlessly watches videos and focuses on Lance’s breathing, and the warmth that he feels being curled up so close. He revels in the feeling of not really having to think about anything, and feeling safe in Lance’s arms, and he feels himself drift to sleep as Lance rubs circles on his hip. 

-

Keith carries two steaming mugs of tea over to where Lance is sitting cross legged on the couch, scrolling through videos on their TV, looking for something to watch. He sets down the mugs, one red, one blue, in front of them on little coasters decorated with lions on, and sits down. He picks up his red mug and stirs around the chai tea bag around by the little label, chewing on his bottom lip as he watches Lance scroll through his feed. 

“I made you some green tea with honey for your throat,” Keith says, and Lance reaches over with a hand to rub at Keith’s knee, covered over with soft sweatpants. He chooses a video and then leans over to give Keith a soft kiss, tasting the chai on his lips that’s left over from when he fixed his tea up with milk and sugar. When he pulls back, Lance’s lips are curved and shiny and pink in a perfect, warm smile. He reaches for his tea and Keith watches as he adorably holds the cup with both hands, taking a tentative sip and raising his eyebrows when he tastes it. Keith smirks knowingly at the look on his face. 

“This is perfect, lion,” Lance says, and goes back for another sip as he shifts his eyes from Keith to the screen. Keith feels content all of the way down to his toes as he drinks at his tea, shifting so his body is pressed closer against Lance’s, moving so that his legs hang over one of Lance’s, still crossed, and one of Lance’s hands come down to rest on his thigh. 

They sit in silence for awhile, watching the tv while they curl into each other, sipping from their mugs and occasionally pressing kisses against shoulders or tops of heads. 

“So an art gallery wants to show my photos,” Lance says, a little while later, and Keith sits straight up, looking at him with a wide, glowing grin placed on his lips, his eyes wide and sparkling. Lance laughs and Keith leans forward to press a kiss there against it. 

“Lance, that’s amazing! Oh my gods, what gallery? Is it far away? Which ones are you going to show?” Keith blurts out, and Lance laughs more, setting his cup down and adjusting himself so that he’s facing Keith better. 

“It’s like ten minutes from campus, and the curator there, her name is Allura, she found my photography from my Instagram and saw that I was nearby and emailed me. Keith- She wants to pay me for showing them. It’s going to be so good, I’ll get my stuff out there and we’ll have a little extra to save or use or whatever- You know me, I’m probably going to spend it spoiling you, but that’s besides the point,” Lance finishes with a content little sigh, and he leans over to rub his nose against Keith’s. Keith presses several kisses to his lips instead, pride swelling in his chest at the idea of Lance’s stuff being shown. 

“You deserve it, I’m so proud of you, Lance,” Keith says, and he leans forward to press his face against the soft cotton tshirt that he has on, breathing in his smell as his arms wrap around him. Lance presses kisses to the top of his head and Keith hums quietly. 

“It’s all because of you, you know,” Lance murmurs, and Keith nods. 

“Are you going to show pictures of me?” Keith asks, and Lance makes a noise in affirmation. 

“I kinda want the whole thing to be about you, if that’s okay,” Lance says, and Keith moves to look at him properly. 

“I want you to do what you wanna do, and I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Keith says, smirking a little, and Lance nods. 

“Pretty boy,” Lance murmurs, mirroring his smirk, and Keith colors as he remembers when they first met, and the feeling in his chest swells, and he feels like Lance is the brightest star that he’s ever seen, and he’s a moon that continues and continues to orbit his glow and will never stop, would never want to look away from the beauty that radiates throughout Keith’s entire galaxy.


	2. i'll promise we'll make it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I hate having class this early. Otherwise we could play in the rain,” Lance says, and Keith starts up the car and pulls into the road. 
> 
> “Sometimes I feel like I have a five year old child instead of a boyfriend,” Keith mumbles, and Lance reaches over to rest a wet hand onto his thigh, leaving a handprint there. 
> 
> “You love me anyways,” Lance singsongs, and turns up the radio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the second chapter to this! as always, you can find me at my tumblr [peachykeiths.](http://peachykeiths.tumblr.com)

Keith wakes up to rain pattering against the window. Lance is turned on his side and facing away from him, and Keith blinks several times because his eyes are blurry. The alarm clock sitting on the nightstand glows blue that it’s already eight, and Keith moves to shuffle out of the bed. The whole room is dim with the weather being gloomy outside, and Keith goes to the window to open it a little in order to hear the rain. 

He’d showered the night before so all he has to do is slip clothes on, which he carelessly grabs for a pair of tapered sweat pants and a soft red tshirt and then pulls a big sweater over his head. He runs a hand through his hair and goes to sit on the edge of the bed, his hand going to Lance’s shoulder and moving it gently. 

“Hey, lion, it’s time to get up,” Keith murmurs, and then lays back and presses kisses to the exposed part of the back of Lance’s neck. Lance shifts in bed and mumbles something intelligible, and turns over, eyes blinking as he looks up at Keith. He smiles, and Keith gives him a few slow, sleepy kisses before leaving to go make breakfast. 

He’s already made eggs just like Lance likes and put them in a little to go bowl, giving himself some toast and brewing coffee as Lance shuffles in, wearing Keith’s shirt and a pair of his own sweatpants. 

“We gotta go,” Keith says, and fixes his coffee how he likes, before going to slide his shoes on and grab an umbrella. 

“I’ll drive today, okay?” Keith continues, and Lance comes over to place his head on his shoulder, and he feels Lance nibble at the exposed skin there. 

“Hey, no biting, I made you breakfast,” Keith says, and wiggles his shoulder as he grabs his keys and keeps the door open for Lance, who’s gathered his breakfast and thrown on his jacket, and makes his way out. 

“Looking good today, pretty boy,” Lance says, his voice still deep with sleep, and Keith blushes despite himself, rolling his eyes to brush it off. 

“My shirt looks amazing on you, by the way,” Keith mumbles sarcastically, because Lance always steals his things (even though Keith always does it right back). 

“Why, thank you, my wonderful and not sarcastic boyfriend who actually finds me attractive,” Lance says, steps thundering down the stairs to the bottom of the building, where Keith’s car is parked. 

“What the fuck, it’s raining?” Lance calls out as soon as he exits the door to their building, and when Keith opens back up the door that closed in the time that it took him to get there, he can see that Lance is dancing around it, arms outstretched. He’s getting absolutely soaked, but Keith knows that he wouldn’t really ever complain about it. His love for rain is rivaled by his love for Keith, which he understood very well. 

Keith opens the umbrella and walks around to the car, opening it up and sliding in awkwardly with it in his hand, throwing it carelessly into the back after he gets it closed. Thunder rumbles off in the distance as Lance throws open the door and gets inside, a pout on his lips. 

“I hate having class this early. Otherwise we could play in the rain,” Lance says, and Keith starts up the car and pulls into the road. 

“Sometimes I feel like I have a five year old child instead of a boyfriend,” Keith mumbles, and Lance reaches over to rest a wet hand onto his thigh, leaving a handprint there. 

“You love me anyways,” Lance singsongs, and turns up the radio. 

Keith smiles, but doesn’t say anything as he turns on the windshield wipers. 

-  
Keith’s always been like this, always had all of these thoughts in his head without really having a reason to back up his feelings. Lance had been the first one to really make him feel like he could sort through it all and find out the reason for all of it. It was like he could reach inside Keith, cradle his mind with shaking fingertips and piece things together. There was a mess of things there, but he made him feel calm and like it was possible to be at peace with them. 

He’s sorting through some book donations when the bell rings, and Keith looks up to see Hunk there, and Keith perks up a little. 

“Hey man, what’s up?” He calls out, and pops up from where he was on his knees, making himself noticeable. Hunk smiles when he meets his eyes. 

“Lance sent me over with a chai, but I’ve also got a book request from Pidge,” He reports, and goes over to the counter to set down the drink that he’d been carrying. Keith walks over to pick it up, looking around the sides and finding a cute little drawing of a lion face with little hearts. He tries to hold back the fond smile from the warmth growing in his chest at the sight of it, and Hunk sighs, because he knows. 

“They need another science-y thing, they said that you could find it if I give you this,” Hunk hands over a torn piece of paper, Pidge’s scrawled handwriting in green pen standing out in the middle, with a book name and an author. Keith looks it over and nods his head. 

“I can get this for them,” Keith murmurs, and then a moment later, “Thanks for bringing this over, Hunk.” 

“No problem, dude. Are you coming to the group thing tonight? We’re all getting together to order pizza and play Mario Kart,” He says, and Keith nods. 

“Lance and I are coming, I think he said something about bringing the cracker mix everyone loves, he had me buy the stuff when I went shopping earlier,” Keith says, and Hunk’s face lights up, and Keith can see that he tries very hard not to jump up and down. 

“That stuff is amazing, oh my Gods, I’m so glad you’re bringing it,” Hunk says, and then he gives Keith finger guns. 

“Well, I’m going to go and help Lance at the shop, I’m sure I’ll get back and he’ll be like, covered in coffee with like a million orders or something, knowing him,” He says, and then turns to leave the shop. Keith snorts, the picture of Lance doing just that coming to his mind very easily, and goes to find the book that Pidge wanted. 

-

Keith knew that Lance really loved him when he asked him to go to the tattoo shop with him, one night. They drove in Lance’s car and Keith slid on a soft headband to keep his hair back before he played around with the music, watching the town pass by in the window. 

The shop was small and shoved into a line of buildings enough that you could probably miss it if it wasn’t there. It had a glowing neon open sign that was visible through the hazy mist of rain that was coming down from dark, grey clouds. They both got out of the car with their hoods pulled over their heads, jogging up to the sidewalk in front of the place, where an overhang was to protect them from the rain. 

Keith looked over at Lance when they got there, and Lance’s eyes were wide, sparkling, and he had a wide grin on his lips, his teeth shining white despite the darkness. 

“Are you ready?” Keith asked, and Lance nodded eagerly. 

“I’m so ready for this,” He said, and Keith followed him into the parlor after he opened the door. 

Keith watch as Lance eagerly pulled out the piece of paper with the design on for the artist, gesturing wildly as he explained what he really wanted. His lips were pulled up into a small smirk as he watched, not able to contain it. Keith loved seeing him like this, as he was the same when it came to his photography, too. 

He continued to watch, followed him to the chair and held his hand before he got it done, as he got it done, and after in the car, too, after he had gotten all wrapped up. Lance was positively beaming at him when Keith looked over after he had closed the door to the car, and Keith mirrored him with a smile when he saw it. 

“Do you like it?” Keith asked. 

“Are you kidding? I freaking love it, I’ve wanted it for so long,” Lance says, and looks down to his left forearm where it rests, done in intricate designs and details in black ink. The lion takes up the better part of his forearm, and Keith loves it, has an appointment scheduled for the next day that he had done right before they had left, to get the same, on his right arm. 

Lance leans over, reaching a hand out to tuck some hair behind Keith’s ear and pull him closer, cradles his jaw as he kisses him in the darkness of the car, as the rain patters quietly against the outside of it in the background. Keith melts into it, leaning closer to Lance over the middle of the car, a hand reaching out to rest on his thigh. 

It’s not the first time that he had felt something warm curl in his abdomen, his fingers grasping tighter to the fabric of Lance’s pants as his cheeks flushed. It was a feeling that he usually shied away from, always feeling guilt in it’s place whenever he gave in to it. When it came to Lance, they’d had always taken things slow, and he had been so, so gentle with him. Sometimes Keith wished that it didn’t stop there. 

He wanted to relearn how it was to feel something for someone without shoving it away like it was something he shouldn’t be doing. Keith didn’t know how to shake the feeling, didn’t know how to ease the ache of the burden his mind put on him every single time he felt like he wanted more than just Lance’s lips on his. He never knew where the feeling came from, but all he knew was that he was tired, and he had had enough of what was going on inside his head, and he just wanted to forget. 

Keith wanted to feel without abandon, have thoughts without thinking twice about them, wanted to just be free from the constructs of his mind. He had a loose grip on it, sure, but Lance was the one with the magic hands. All he had to do was place them anywhere on him and Keith felt a surge of peace, of tranquility, of silence. 

It was why in that moment that he let his hand wander to where it wanted, laying over the soft fabric of Lance’s pants where he had grown hard. Keith felt his intake of breath against his lips, felt Lance try to pull back so that he could look at him, but he surged forward and kissed him as hard as he could instead. 

He pressed harder and Lance moaned into his mouth and it was the most erotic thing he had ever heard, and once he did hear it, he just wanted more, and more. He wanted Lance to sing with those noises for hours and he didn’t think he would get tired listening to them once. 

“Keith-,” 

“No, I want this, I do, fuck, Lance, you sound so good, feel so good- I don’t know how-,” 

Lance chuckles softly, and Keith feels his body react underneath his hands, and Lance moves then, moving his hands down from cupping his cheek and to his hip, grabbing then, pulling up his shirt and putting his hands on his skin. Keith shivers with it, Lance’s hands cold as ice when he feels so hot he might burn up from the inside, and wants to press closer, as close as he can. 

He gives him a series of kisses, slips his tongue between his teeth and licks at the roof of his mouth and Keith feels like he’s melting into a puddle right there, with Lance’s hands splayed across the skin on his hip, pressing into the slight softness there. 

“I think we should take this home, then, lion, don’t you think?” Lance asks, and he pulls back then, with a whimper from Keith to which he quiets with a small shush, cooing at him. Keith reluctantly nods, takes a moment to remember that they are, in fact, in a parking lot at eleven at night, and the car isn’t even on and he hadn’t realised how cold it really was, and home sounds really, really nice. 

Lance starts the car then, it coming alive with a purr, and he drives home with a hand on Keith’s thigh the whole way, rubbing soft circles there without another word. 

-

The first time that Keith sees Lance’s exhibit he’s rendered speechless. 

As his feet carry him from room to room, his sneakers echoing steps throughout the empty show just hours before it’s opening, he stares with wide eyes. The photographs portrayed on large canvases, in huge frames, showcase him, laid bare and open from Lance’s eyes. 

He wonders if this is the way that Lance has always seen him. 

Keith feels his chest tighten, seeing the way that Lance had precariously shown him, through a series of images that somehow reflect how they have evolved together. It shows the divots of his spine, the decline of their arguments in the muscles drooping in his face, in the dimples that showcase when it takes an incline when they’re so in love they can’t think about anything else. 

He thinks that it’s about right, yeah, what he’s showing. He’s beyond surprised, had never really thought about himself in the way that he could be the main theme of an art show, but it fits, with Lance, for him to do that. 

Lance gives him a confidence he’s unsure of how to manifest himself, and he blushes seeing himself in some of the positions, because he feels like he never lets anyone else but Lance see some parts of him. Those that are shown, seem like they’ve been shoved deep down. Only Lance has taken the time to use gentle hands to unfurl them like flowers. 

He supposes that’s what art is sometimes, laying yourself bare. 

He’d already discovered that it tends to be the same with love. To lay yourself bare. 

There’s tears in his eyes that he’s barely registered by the time that he’s done. He reaches the exit and finds Lance standing against the doorway, eyes downcast as he straightens the suit he’s wearing. It fits him nicely, and the curve of his jaw and the shade of his stubble show how much he’s grown over the years, from Keith, from this. From finding himself in the photographs that he has displayed proudly over large expanses of walls. 

Keith finds that he’s handsome, in this low light, and when he looks up to find Keith there, he feels his heart constrict as his eyes light up, the blue glimmering like the sea. Keith finds a small smile work it’s way onto his face, taking over his lips. He closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around Lance’s middle, tucking his face into the curve of his neck, the skin cool against the warmth of his cheek. He smells like expensive cologne and underneath, his body soap and just how he’s always naturally been, the smell that’s imprinted in Keith’s mind, by this point. 

He doesn’t have to say that he likes it. He knows that Lance knows. 

He places kisses where his lips can reach, trailing slowly, and Lance makes a soft noise deep in his throat, and Keith’s fingers grasp tighter to the fabric of his suit. 

They’re here together. It’s all that matters. 

Keith’s chest is so tight he can’t breathe, but he’s okay. 

It’s all that matters.


End file.
